Timey, Spacey
by TheEnergizerBunny
Summary: In which the Doctor and Clara hold hands and deliberately, subconsciously, find ways to touch each other. A series of 11/Clara drabbles, set during the second half of Series 7 and onwards.
1. Better

**Author's Note: **So I was getting around to finishing the third chapter of _Away _when suddenly, the _worst_ case of writer's block struck me like a Hercules blow to the inner thigh (ouch) and I was left plotless, museless, and inspirationless for the last couple of days. ._.

So I took a break, and wrote a mostly plotless drabble instead. :-D (Don't look at me like that, you've all been there, too.) From now on I'll be posting (established) 11/Clara sort-of-connected-but-can-also-be-stand-alone drabbles, and will be compiling all of them here, just so that we're organized and everything.

Oh and pretty pretty please _give me prompts! _I love a good prompt. Just PM me and if I find one I like, I'll have it finished right away. :-)

And also, follow me on my newly-constructed Tumblr: **claraoswals **dot **tumblr **dot **com**. You can find all my graphics there, if any of you are interested.

Alright, I'm sorry for taking up most of your time. I hope you like this short drabble!

* * *

**Title: **Better  
**Word Count: **761  
**Prompt: **The Doctor takes Clara to see 'something awesome'.

* * *

"Where are you taking me?" She asks, her tone light with anticipation, eyes snapped shut as the Doctor led her blindly out the TARDIS.

"It's a surprise," he replies, squeezing her shoulders encouragingly. "A rather good one, if I do say so myself."

"I'll be the judge of that," she wittingly remarks, reaching up to place her hands atop his. "Is it better than Akhaten, though? The rings you showed me?"

Coming to a stop, he laces her fingers with his, clasping their hands together in front of her as he hugs her body tight against his own. Smiling in her hair, he answers, repeating her words, "You'll be the judge of that."

At that, she flutters her eyes open, blinking a few times to adjust her line of sight. She holds her breath, clearly seeing now, sucking in all the air she could muster at the absolute _wonder_ of the spectacle before her.

In the years she's traveled with the Doctor, she's seen quite a number of extraordinary things - planets and galaxies, suns and constellations. Hopping from one century to another, exploring not only the world but the entirety of the Universe, she's seen more than her fair share of the impossible and the strange, the new and the amazing.

But nothing, she thinks to herself, had been nearly as amazing as this.

Brilliant stars of radiant colours, slowly, gracefully, falling into the abyss beneath her, leaving trails of colourful dust behind each and every one. Some stars fell together - hues of red and blue combining to make purple, others blue and yellow to make an iridescent green - while some fell in clusters, the colours contradicting but complementing each other, ultimately. Foes and friends, all the same.

They reminded Clara of fireworks, just like the ones she used to see back home every New Year's Eve, right after they explode in the sky, and tiny lights start dripping in thin, shimmering lines, eventually falling into nothing.

These stars fell, but never into nothing, not even when the blackness of below swallows the colour of the surface, and to her, it's just simply _breathtaking_.

Eyes glistening, she turns to the Doctor, looking up at him like he's done the rightest thing any sentient being could ever _possibly _do. A shy smile tugging at the corner of his lips, he steps towards her right, facing the view but still, _always_, watching her from the corner of his eye.

"The Stars of Hjelia - the farthest, most secluded corner of the Andromeda. Technically they're meteors, but because they are found to have excessive amounts of pressurized carbon in their chemical compositions, they've been renamed to follow the stereotype. You know, '_twinkle, twinkle, little star__…__'_" he begins as an introduction, slightly wavering off in the end when Clara looks at him funny. "Right, well_,_ legend has it that these meteors all originated from a single planet in the far north, but that after a torrent of supernovas within the immediate vicinity, these meteors came flying down, propelling downward_s_ as the force of a million stars _bursting_ reverberated from above, and ever since, they have been falling and falling and _falling _without end. An… endless meteor shower," he smiles, looking onto the horizon, his face brightly illuminated by the display that took place right in front of them.

Still confused, she glances questioningly at the alien, trying to put a finger on how any of this is at all significant. She knows it is, for some reason, but she can't quite figure out _why._

"You asked me to show you the stars," he continues, as if reading her mind, staring shamelessly into her eyes. "Well, here they are."

Turning away from his gaze, Clara looks out into the open, watching as every meteor, every star, fell from above, sometimes in a line, other times twirling, and inwardly she laughs at the absurdity of it all, of seeing something so beautiful and magical she never knew existed.

She would have lived the remaining days of her life not knowing this place was ever there, sticking to the one hundred and one when there were one hundred and _millions_, but because of this beautiful, magical man and his beautiful, magical box, she wouldn't have to. And she loved him for that. (Just a little bit.)

So she reaches out to hold his hand in hers, even if she _is _a grown-up now, because of everything she's ever seen, and all the places she's ever been to, this – him, her, _this _– was absolutely, unmistakably, _better. _


	2. How to Fly a TARDIS

**Author's Note: **Hello again! This drabble is for a prompt given to me by **Little Lushy Lion **(_docoswald _on Tumblr) and while I'm not quite satisfied with how this turned out (I have _never _been properly snogged by a boy before, so I don't quite know how I'm supposed to write what it's like), please do know that I did the _best _that I absolutely could. Desiree is such a sweetheart and she deserves nothing less.

Still taking prompts! The third chapter of _Away _is still a couple of paragraphs short and I'm losing my mind over how I'm supposed to end it. Prompt-filling will get me there eventually. :-) PM me or send me an ask through Tumblr (again, **claraoswals**, just so that we're clear on that) and I'll get crackin'.

Anyways, I hope you like it!

* * *

**Title: **How to Fly a TARDIS  
**Word Count:** 1,431  
**Prompt: **The Doctor tries to teach Clara how to fly the TARDIS. Clara has other ideas.**  
**

* * *

"No, no, not _that _lever!"

"How was I supposed to know which one? They all look the same to me."

"They don't!"

Sighing, he walks around the console, pinching the bridge of his nose before turning his back on her and gripping the railing.

"Well, _I'm sorry, _Mr. Grumpy. They didn't exactly teach you how to fly a time machine in university," Clara comments, eyes trained on the rows of buttons before her. Skimming her hands over the panel, she wonders if that big red button in the middle did anything out of the ordinary. But then again, everything in this ship was out of the ordinary, so that was probably a stupid question. "You know what, I kind of wish they had."

"You don't need university," the Doctor replies, facing her. "You need me."

"Well, you're not much of a good teacher now, are you?" she quips, briefly turning her head to smirk at him. While she was fairly sure she wasn't allowed to press any of the buttons on the console, she _did _adore pushing his.

"I am an _excellent _teacher, I'll have you know! I once taught Albert Einstein to do the Charleston and boy, let me tell you, he impressed _a lot_ of scientists in that conference," he quickly argues (just as she predicted), grinning proudly as he recalls his adventures with the physicist. "He was a bit of a wild one, that goosy German. Never hand that guy a bottle of vodka, I'll give you that."

Clara knits her eyebrows, her mind travelling to a very drunk Einstein at a very formal gathering. Were geniuses even _allowed _to drink? "Sounds like a recipe for disaster."

"Oh, it was. I had to get him sobered up to finish the Theory of Relativity," he deadpans, walking towards her and hugging her from behind. "Just in time, too. He was due to discuss his findings at a convention in Moscow the next morning."

She laughs, nestling her head in the crook of his neck, her finger toying with the handle of what seemed to her like a joystick. "Imagine how different school would have been for me if he remained drunk at that convention."

"I'm quite certain he still was, at the time. He'd slur over his words, occasionally tripping himself. Made a habit of flailing his arms around too. He did that a lot."

"You mean like you?" She remarks, looking up at him smugly, one eyebrow raised as she wills herself not to laugh at the flustered look on his face.

"You're a cheeky little minx, aren't you?"

"It's in the job description."

"Of what?"

"Of being your companion," she replies chirpily, freeing herself from his embrace (much to his annoyance) and skipping over to the other side of the console. "Now come _on_, man! Teach me how to fly this thing."

At that, the TARDIS makes a noise of disapproval, the wheels above the panel whirring quite menacingly.

"You really shouldn't call her that. It'd be easier for all three of us if you just referred to her as a ship."

"Isn't that basically just the same?"

She thinks she just heard the TARDIS growl.

"No, _no_. Very, very different," he answers, eyes wide in warning.

"Alriiight," she responds, cocking her head slightly to the side and dragging that last syllable out in confusion. "Can we start on our lesson now?"

"That depends, have you finally found the dematerialising lever?"

"Is that the one behind the wibbly-wobbly bit?"

"Yes! _Yes_. Well done, Clara, now we can proceed," he exclaims, rushing behind her and looking over her shoulder. He places both his hands on the edges of the panel beside her, ultimately trapping her body in (not that she minds or anything). "Remember, you _only _pull on the dematerialising lever after you power up the atom accelerator…"

"And which one's that?" She asks, a bit distractedly, the lesson quickly escalating into a boring lecture.

"Oh, it's that one," the Doctor replies, pointing to a yellow button near what he told her was the Inertial (?) Dampers. "That's the energy source of the TARDIS. It enables her to travel through the vortex without being sucked in by the parallel time-space continuum. It is _essential _that you do not forget to press that button. _Never forget it._"

Clara nods absentmindedly, staring at the button but not really minding his words.

"And that one, that's the throttle. It allows you to maneuver through space and time, but only if you're flying it manually. She's basically on autopilot already, the smart little spaceship that she is…" He explains, a fond smile gracing his lips before turning to her when he realizes she's not paying attention. "Oy, are you even listening?"

"Hmm? Yeah, yeah, I am."

"You're not, are you? You're not listening!"

"But it's getting boring!" Clara whines, unfazed by the close proximity between their faces. "As fascinating as all of this sounds, and really, _I don't mean that sarcastically_, I just want to be doing something more… hands-on."

"What do you suggest then?" He prompts, looking slightly irritated as he folds his arms in front of him and blows his fringe away from his eyes.

Clara looks at him amusedly, her eyes flickering to his lips as he protrudes the bottom half of it in a childish huff. She glances back up at him with a mischievous grin, and the Doctor squirms in the spot, a tiny bit nervous at the look she's giving him because he _recognizes _that face. That face where she's looking at you like a light bulb just went off in her brain, smirking in a way that you know whatever it is she's cooking up in that pretty little head of hers had a very, _very _troublesome outcome. "Nothing you won't like, I reckon."

Cupping his face, he pulls him closer and crashes her lips against his, laughing in his mouth when she catches sight of his confused expression, arms flailing about. Not knowing what to do with his hands, he settles them in the curves of her waist, slowly but eventually relaxing into the kiss. Eyes fluttering closed, he starts to respond, running his tongue along the seam of her lip. She bites back a whimper and the sound is _exhilarating_, and he just can't stop himself. Not now.

He feels dizzy, partly because she's got him backed up on the console and it's not the most comfortable place to be doing such activities, but mostly because she's opening her mouth for him now, and her tongue is doing this _amazing_ thing with his, sliding it alongside his own and he thinks he can see the stars from behind his eyelids.

Impatient and still slightly uncomfortable with the levers and the knobs poking at his back, he lifts her up and has her sit on the panel, deepening the kiss as he explores her mouth, their tongues touching and then retreating before starting the teasing dance again. She balls his shirt with her fists and tugs him closer, getting his body as _close _to hers as she possibly could, and somehow his hands have climbed up all the way to her hair, burying them in her soft locks. He wants more, and he's never felt this way before – struck with such _want _and _desire_ – and she's just as eager, tilting her head slightly so and nipping at his bottom lip. She runs her hands up and down his torso and it just so occurred to him how _infuriating_ it is to have his dress shirt in the way, a piece of fabric keeping her warm hands from actually touching his skin. She senses his irritability and she giggles in the kiss, but she doesn't stop. He finds that he _really _doesn't want her to.

They trade kisses back and forth until she's breathless, until the both of them are dizzy and heaving and _aching _and while he doesn't really need the air, he doesn't complain when she has to pull away. Humans need their oxygen.

Cheeks flushed and her lips swollen, she looks at him slightly dazed, her smile making it very difficult for him to form coherent thoughts in his head.

"So, uh… hands-on, then."

She giggles as he stumbles with his words, patting him on the chest before sliding off the console and walking out the control room.

"See you later!" She calls out from the doorway, her voice echoing in the ship as she goes farther into the TARDIS. "Looking forward to our next lesson!"

She was not the only one.


	3. Fair Play

**Author's Note: **Hello again! I did promise another drabble for this series, and here it is! Right on time (-ish).

Nobody gave me prompts. :-( I did, however, come up with this one in the brink of unconsciousness last night, because you know, I get my best ideas in the dark. ;-)

Okay, moving on.

Pretty please with Matt Smith on top, _send me prompts! _I'm far from creative and I usually come up with the lamest plots, so help would be much appreciated. :-) Send me a PM here or on my Tumblr (shameless pimping is always fun), **claraoswals**, and I'll have it written soon.

Anywhoozles, enjoy!

* * *

**Title: **Fair Play  
**Word Count: **1,175  
**Prompt: **The Doctor and Clara play Snakes and Ladders, and the stakes are rather risky.

* * *

"So this is it, then?" the Doctor mutters, disappointment quickly gracing his features. "All that hype for a _stupid _board game?"

"It's not stupid!" Clara is quick to defend, crossing her legs underneath her before taking a seat on the carpeted floor. "It's quite fun, actually. A thriller of sorts."

"No, _no_, you said 'Snakes and Ladders'…"

"And this _is_ 'Snakes and Ladders'! Don't you see the little ladders going up the boxes? And the multicolored snakes? I even got the set with the tiny, fuzzy dice! I thought you might have liked it."

"Well, I'm sorry, Clara, but there's nothing exactly thrilling about… _cartoon reptilians_," he replies, saying the last two words with such intense disdain. Clara stifles a giggle.

"What were you expecting, Doctor? Real snakes and real ladders?"

"Yes!" He exclaimed, lifting his arms in frustration. "Not a crummy old piece of cardboard that's been doodled on like a colouring book. At least give me some quality here!"

Clara crosses her arms over her chest, looking up at him displeased. "We are _going_ to play this game," she announces, her tone imperative. She raises her eyebrow at him and dons on a scowl, mentally scolding him into submission, but _no_, it wasn't going to work this time. _Nope_, no-siree. He will stand his ground like the man he is and _refuse _to give in to his companion's wishes. He was the older one here, wasn't he? Shouldn't _she _be taking orders from him and not the other way around?

"_Now._"

He groans.

"How do you… play this, anyway?" The Doctor asks, begrudgingly sitting right next to her with his long legs awkwardly tucked under the other. Clara triumphantly smiles.

"It's easy, really. All you've got to do is throw the dice and add up the number of dots that appear–."

"I know how a die works, Clara," he cuts in, rolling his eyes.

"Brilliant! Shouldn't be hard to teach you the rest of the game, then," she quips, sneering when she sees him shoot her a glare from the corner of her eye. "Right, so you throw the dice, and you move your piece according to the number you get. If you step on a ladder, you get to climb up to the box where the ladder ends. If you chance upon a snake, however, you would have to slide all the way down to where its tail is. Basically, whoever reaches the 100th square first, wins."

The Doctor nods, albeit a bit too disinterested to really listen. He glowers at the board, this sorry excuse of a recreational activity outrightly mocking him with its very presence. _How can he not take that to offense? _Acting on impulse (like always), he whips out his sonic before he can stop himself and points at it, flicking his wrist to get its readings.

_A board game that originated in India. _He pauses. Is it too late to go back in time and talk the nice Indian people from ever inventing it?

Clara stares at him, amused. "How you holding up there, Doctor? All 27 of your brains processing that in?"

He glares at her again, sticking out his tongue like the child he really is. "Ha _ha_, very funny."

"Oh, lighten up, you sour old man!" She retorts, nudging his shoulder playfully. "What's got your space boxers in a twist this time?"

He flushes at her remark, opening and closing his mouth like an offended goldfish. "_Clara!"_

She laughs. She will _never _get enough of watching him get embarrassed. "What's your problem? It's not like it's anything I haven't seen before…"

"_Shut up! _Shut– it's just, this game… this _stupid _game…"

"Stop saying it's stupid!"

"It's a game of chance, not a game of skill! Where does our intellect fit in all of this?"

"Nowhere," she answers aptly, a small smile on her lips as she takes out the rest of the pieces from the box and plays with the dice, "but it'd be a good change to stop _thinking _once in a while, eh? Give our computer brains a well-deserved day off and have Lady Luck over for a nice day in."

He sighs, slumping his shoulders in defeat like an overly-dramatic loon. "Fine."

Clara grins._  
_

"Right, so there's just the two of us… maybe we can play rock, paper, scissors for who gets to go first instead of–."

"No, you go ahead," he insists, waving a hand at her. "It's not like this is much of a challenge in the first place."

"_Ooh, _Doctor getting all big-headed this early in the game! Care to wager on that?" Clara dares, offering her hand out for a shake. He takes it without question, confidently staring into her eyes.

"What are the stakes, Ms. Oswald?"

"If I win," she begins, knitting her eyebrows together in concentration, smirking when she finally comes up with an idea, "you are to do _my_ bidding for the next 72 hours. No complaints. No take-backs. No _nothing_. I'd probably have you wear a costume…"

Oh, she was evil_. _"But if _you lose_–,"

"Highly unlikely."

"–I will leave you alone with the TARDIS. Just for a couple of hours. You and her. Without me. _Alone._"

Clara momentarily winces, recovering quickly and shaking his hand more vigorously in focused determination. "It's on, Chin."

* * *

"Please show four, _please show four_," the Doctor chants, crossing his fingers as he eyes Clara, shaking the dice in her hands in careful timing.

"Don't fail me now, fuzzies. _Give me a five,_" she breathes, hopeful, tossing the dice in the air before the room shifted sharply to the side. Clara squeaks, the Doctor managing a pompous "oof" as they both topple over from their seats, the dice suspiciously landing on the centre of the board.

Running a hand through her hair to clear her vision, Clara crawls back to her original spot, nervous as she sets her eyes on the outcome of her throw: a three and a two.

"Yes! Yes, yes, yes, _yes,_" she screams delightfully, waving her arms in the air victoriously before moving her piece five boxes to the finish. "Looks like I'm going to have to stop by the shop later today for quick purchase. You'd look _dashing _in a chambermaid's outfit. I presume you're a large? Oh, I hope they have men's sizes…"

"_No!_" The Doctor shouts in bloody horror, head bowed down to the ground, balling his fists and hitting the carpeted floor. He looks up from his fetal position, realization flooding his face before he bellows to the TARDIS. _"_Did _you _make this happen? _Are you siding with her now?_"

He lets out a strangled cry when the ship makes a noise of disapproval, feigning innocence when _clearly_ she was the one responsible for his companion's win. He feels betrayed, more than anything.

"Oh, don't be such a _baby_," Clara comments, standing up from her seat to pull him up. "Who knows, maybe you'll enjoy being my slave for the next few days."

At that, she looks up at him again, the way she did when he tried (_he really did_) to teach her how to fly the TARDIS that one time, and all of a sudden, he knows what's going on in that devious little head of hers, and he's afraid he's actually looking _forward _to whatever she has planned.

She really was the boss, wasn't she?

"Well, what are you waiting for?" She calls out to him, already halfway to the exit. "I'm not going to let you do me in the library, for God's sake. The bedroom's this way."

So, being the loser had its perquisites after all.


End file.
